


did you throw your heart away?

by nahmooste



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Forehead Kisses, Soz, but incoming smut, chapter 3 has smut, even if kota makes it difficult, i can't tag, implied kenny and kota, just a smidgen of abuse but not really?, kenny has literally had enough, kenny loves kota and that's for sure, kenny's just having a hard time, kenny/naito, mostly he's just confused tho, naito is very angry at kenny, no smut yet, part 1 kenny has a problem with aj, part 2 kenny has a problem with how hot kota is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahmooste/pseuds/nahmooste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>collection of extremely short fics featuring Kenny Omega, Kota Ibushi, and other NJPW alumni/wrestlers, sometimes together but not always. multiple pairings, fluff, smut, angst, etc.<br/>-<br/>part 1; Kenny/AJ/Kota<br/>part 2; Kenny/Kota<br/>part 3; Kenny/Naito<br/>part 4; Kenny/Kota ft. Tama<br/>part 5; Kenny/Kota</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> it started with:  
> He looks so torn too, like which boyfriend do I support? Support neither of them, or support the one who’s going to kill me if I don’t? Like, Kota was the love of his life before his heart was broken, but now he has this weird unrequited love for AJ that he doesn’t really understand yet, so does he turn on the guy he’s still in love with or does he keep loyal to the one who hasn’t broken him yet? 
> 
> He literally looks away anytime AJ hurts Kota, but when he shows concern to Kota, AJ just knows, he can sense it and so he stares back at him like "where the fuck you lookin’, huh?" and looks away again because fuck he shouldn't be looking at him like that.

And Kota crumbles right at Kenny's feet, and there was a time where Kenny would get down and pick him back up and beat the snot out of whoever hurt HIS guy, but that was years ago and _why is he still feeling like this?_ So he steps back and chews on his lip, and doesn't look up until AJ is peering at him with those eyes of fire that _dare_ him to just try and help. And he can't. He can't, and he walks away with his head down because _what the fuck else is he supposed to do?_

 

_Why did AJ even bring him out here?!_ (he knows why.)

 

But he still prays. Fuck, Kota better kick his fucking face off for doing this to him. He finds himself glaring at AJ when he's not looking, but he knows AJ can feel it.

 

Does he run to AJ when he's down? Does he leave it? Let him be his own man? 

 

_"I don't need your help Omega, not now, not ever. This is **my**  match."_

His blood **boils** when he hears Kota screaming. Kota, who's never afraid to let people know that he's hurting, but the same Kota who will decapitate you with that same leg you were just crushing- because what's pain if you can't put others through it, too? It deserves to be felt. Because Kota's limping after a grating focalisation against his calf, but he's still fighting _because that’s who he is_ \- Kenny digs his nails into his palms and looks away again, grits his teeth because _fuck_ his person is AJ, his person is AJ, his person _is AJ Styles, how many times does he need to repeat it before it sinks in?!_

 

Is- is AJ's foot outside the rope a _message?_ He's blocking a suplex, blocks again, and is he supposed to grab it? _Is he?_ There's no answer anywhere around him, nothing, and then suddenly AJ is twisting their bodies and throwing Kota neck first against the turnbuckle padding. _Okay, good, don't grab the leg, let AJ do his thing._

 

A springboard DDT, a count that reaches two and a half, and then AJ is looking at him holding up three fingers like he won, and all Kenny can do is raise his shoulders and look bewildered because Kota kicked out. Kota kicked out, and he keeps kicking out, and how the hell is he going to survive this match if he can't even tell AJ that he hadn't won?

 

There's a flurry of kicks and hits and jabs, a combination from Kota and then AJ and then Kota and then AJ, and he's gaping, he knows he is, but _fuck_ , the flying forearm, and- not the Styles Clash, but a Styles Buster and thank god he kicks out after that.

 

But now... now AJ is just toying with him. AJ’s pointing the faux gun at Kota and looking right at him, and Kenny doesn't look away. AJ will win. **_AJ was always going to win._**

 

And then Kota stumbles right in front of him. Right in front of his face, slick thighs and stomach and sweaty hair, panting breath, and Kenny's mouth slacks a bit, his heart beating faster than it had in months. And for the first time in months, Kota looks at him. Right after a sit out powerbomb, Kota finally locks his eyes onto Kenny's, and Kenny knows he's been avoiding direct eye contact, he knows that Kota could go the rest of his life without looking at him, but he looks anyway. The lump in Kenny's throat dips, then raises back. 

 

For the rest of the match, or what was left of it, his heart is in his mouth. He tries to keep his face as stoic as possible, but honestly... who knows. AJ could have seen anything. He'd probably seen everything. 

 

And he does something that will have Kota hating him for the rest of his life- he climbs onto that apron and stares right at the Japanese wrestler until he's looking back; he's being the distraction that Kota knew he would be, that AJ needs him to be, and then he realises what he's doing and climbs back down. He’s just cost Kota the match.

It doesn't matter. AJ’s recovered, hit him with the Styles Clash before Kenny can even do anything. 

 

Panic bubbles up in his throat for a long second before he manages to contain it, places his hands on his waist, nods his head because he's _Bullet Club_ , this is what they _do_ , _this_ is who he is. He wants to cry. He wants to laugh. He applauds AJ. There are arms around him, but Kenny doesn't care who it is— and then there's an arm slamming against his back, more people challenging AJ, and he's _happy_ he's out of that ring. But... his name... they're saying that he can't always be there to save AJ, and they're right. Not that he'll ever tell AJ that. 

 

No one notices him slinking off into the corners after that.


	2. tell me that you need me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: grabbed at the same time for the last copy of a movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of my incomplete 800 words for 7 days thing (tbh i had work for three of those and then went on holidays, so it was just bad timing)
> 
> Kenny/Kota fluff

He’s been eying off this damn movie for the last ten minutes. Ten _fucking_ minutes. Mostly, Kenny’s mad because he can’t just _grab_ the movie now, he’s gotta wait until the fucker’s decided. And besides… he’s been staring at _Terminator 2_ for almost the entire time, so he feels obligated.

 

Waves of hostility are rolling off Kenny and he glowers over the pile of DVDs in front of him.   
  
He doesn’t even know why this is a problem. He can go home and stream it off his computer with a _plethora_ of other things to watch, but god _damnit_ he’s walked down to this corner-store and he’ll be fucked if he doesn’t get what he wants.

 

“Hey.”  
  
Kenny is too busy glowering at what’s in front of him to realise that the guy has shifted closer to him. He blinks and glances across at the fucker and he just— he _freezes_. That’s the only way he can explain it.

 

The man has soft brown eyes and a gentle face and lips made of sin and hair that he can twist his fingers in and mother _fucker,_ Kenny needs to take a long second to compose himself before he answers. And in the mean time, he ends up gaping at the stranger like a fucking fish out of water. _For fucks sake_.

 

“I don’t mean to interrupt you, but… I’ve never seen this before…” the man trails off with his unasked question and Kenny stares at him for a second longer because _what_.

 

He stutters over his reply more than he would like to admit. “Uh— yeah, it’s, uh, it’s great. It’s a good movie, I’d definitely recommend it. Good characters, good story, good— good movie.” He’s repeating himself _damnit_ , but he’s still stumped by how _innocent_ this fucker is. Who’s still staring at him with round eyes and a gentle grin on his mouth. “You should rent it. But it’s only a one nighter, so you gotta watch it pretty much straight away.”

 

The stranger smiles at him a bit deeper and nods. “Thanks.”  
  
And he walks off with Kenny’s Goddamn movie in his hand. _Attractive motherfucker_.

 

Begrudgingly, Kenny curls his fingers around _Terminator 2_ and almost stomps his way to the front desk, only to realise that the stranger is still making his order.

 

“Ibushi Kota,” he says lowly, rattling off his phone number before patting his pants in search of a wallet. 

 

He’s definitely _not_ staring at his ass and certainly does _not_ notice the way his entire body seems to freeze. His eyes lift from the curve of his spine and lock onto the cashier who is staring at _Ibushi Kota_ expectantly, as if he were waiting for a card or something. 

 

It clicks then in his head; _the stranger has left his wallet at home_.

 

Like a gift from the Gods, Kenny realises that now is his time to sit back and watch as the man walks away without the DVD they obviously both want to see tonight. Yet, when _Ibushi Kota_ turns around like a fucking puppy that’s been kicked, Kenny finds the corners of his mouth pulling up gently.

 

“Did you leave your money at home?”

 

Embarrassed, the stranger rubs the back of his neck and nods. “Yeah… how awkward. Guess I’ll have to wait—“  
  
“I’ll pay.”  
  
His eyes widen at Kenny’s offer. “Oh no, no I couldn’t—“

 

“It’s a good movie,” Kenny teases gently, stepping forward to place his own DVD down on the counter. He says his name and then his number to the cashier and almost jolts backwards when the stranger’s arm brushes his. The cashier throws the movies into the same bag and holds them out for Kenny, and he stutters for a moment, about to say _separately, please_ , when the man beside him slowly nudges them both away from the counter.

 

Kenny doesn’t even know what’s happening. 

 

“I’m Kota, by the way,” the stranger smiles at him. 

 

“Kenny.”  
  
He doesn’t want it to be awkward, but it _is_. His heart is going a million miles an hour and his knuckles are white around the corner store bag, eyes wide as they stare at Kota. Cause, uh, _what the fuck now?_

 

And Kota just grins slowly at him. “The movie…? I’ll put a gift card under your name for the next time you’re in there, but I’ve got food in the oven and my cat is probably missing me…”  


“S—sure,” Kenny stumbles over his words again, and he’s fumbling to get the DVD out of the bag and _it shouldn’t fucking be this hard to do it but what the fuck is this—_ a triumphant noise sounds at the back of his throat as he holds the movie out to Kota, pausing again at he realises the way in which the stranger is staring back at him.

 

Kota’s only three steps away when he turns back to stops for a long second and turns back to Kenny, peering over his shoulder innocently and speaking in a way that has Kenny’s eyes drawn to his lips. “You, uh… you should come and watch it with me.”

 

Kenny says _yes_ before he has the chance to register anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song is 'Nothing Less' by Kygo/Will Heard


	3. murder my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But the back of his mind starts chanting Kota and Shinsuke, in tandem, and separately, and it doesn’t matter. It’s there.
> 
> When Naito opens his door, Kenny can see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Kenny’s felt anger before, he’s felt rage, and he’s no stranger to the way it courses through his veins and turns his bones to ice— but this is a different kind of anger. This is a different kind of rage, and it’s one that turns his entire body into a smouldering fire. And he doesn’t know how to cope with it. 

 

He tries to sweat it out in the ring. But it’s not _his_ routine that he uses, so it doesn’t work. He tries to let it fade from his mind while playing games, but the console was a gift from _him_. Everything he owns and needs to get out of this funk screams _Kota_ at him like every single thing is his fault.

 

It’s not. 

 

It’s _not_.

 

He can’t remember breaking the controller, but it happens. Can’t remember throwing it at the wall, but he’ll walk over it when he wakes up and cuss out every living thing under the sun.

 

The fact that he hasn’t spoken to Kota in the past four months means absolutely fucking _nothing._ They’re both busy guys and he respects their line of work, knows that Kota gets tired like he does, doesn’t blame him for the silence when Kenny hasn’t reached out himself, either. No, that’s not it.

 

It’s the fact that Kota’s over there with _Shinsuke fucking Nakamura_ that does his head in.

 

But he doesn’t _get_ jealous, _prides_ himself in being able to reign in his emotions, but he’s fucking _livid_ when he sees Kota in Shinsuke’s locker room before the Takeover match against Samoa Joe. He can’t see straight, can’t think, doesn’t _want_ to think about it.

 

Except he does.

 

And then he breaks his remote, stubs his toe on the couch, and almost electrocutes himself when he drops his hairdryer in the sink.

 

Kenny stops for a second afterwards and takes a deep breath, grips the basin with both hands. His knuckles whiten and he _will not fucking let this get to him, he’s above this._

 

He needs to be above this for both of them. He won’t make an ass out of himself _and_ Kota at the same time (though, when he thinks about it, he admits it’d be pretty hard to make an ass out of Kota).

 

And in reality, Kenny doesn’t have a lot of options. He can stay cooped up in his apartment and brood about Kota, or he could fucking go _somewhere_ and do _something_ to just fucking _distract himself._

 

Kenny doesn’t realise where he’s going until he’s halfway to Naito’s place. A sense of dread comes over him because _shit_ , even if he turns back now… Naito would know. Naito always knows. He runs a hand through the unruly curls at the back of his neck and sighs, digs the point of his thumb into the middle of his forehead— if he presses hard enough, makes a big enough hole, maybe his brain will just slip out and he won’t _have to fucking think ever again_.

 

But the back of his mind starts chanting Kota and Shinsuke, in tandem, and separately, and it doesn’t matter. It’s _there_.

 

When Naito opens his door, Kenny can see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

 

_Why wouldn’t he be surprised?_

 

But Naito also knows Kenny now. Knows that lack of emotion on his face. Knows that he’s feeling so deeply he doesn’t want to feel at all.

 

“It’s Kota.”

 

The words aren’t a question— they’re a statement. Because Kenny never gets angry like this if it isn’t something to do with Kota, because no one can get under Kenny’s skin like Kota can.

 

Kenny surges forward and pushes himself into Naito’s body, grabs with desperate hands any part of the Japanese man he can, tries to kiss him, and it only lasts two seconds before Naito’s teeth grind down on his lip and blood spills into his own mouth. He takes a step back and slowly lifts a hand to his mouth, staring with wide eyes at the red on the edge of his finger.

 

“Naito…” he starts, but then looks up at him and stops.

 

Naito’s eyes are burning, his fists clenched, mouth pressed into a thin line. Not smirking, not a gentle teasing glint in his gaze. 

 

“You came to me because I’m a distraction.” Naito’s angry; Kenny can see it just in his stance, takes another step back. “I’m a fucking _distraction_ to you, Kenny?”

 

He wants to shake his head no, but if he does— if he lies in this moment, he won’t have any more moments. Naito will wrap his hands right around his throat and _choke_ the anger from him. He’ll make it worse than it already is, because they both know that a distraction is the least Naito is.

 

“You come to me because you think I can _fuck_ it out of you, right?” Naito hisses. “And the moment Kota comes back, you’re just going to run back to him, aren’t you? The moment he comes back, you won’t need a reason to come to me at one in the morning.”

 

He wants to tell him _it won’t be like that_ , but Kenny flinches when he registers what time it is and feels shame wash over him.

 

But Naito isn’t finished. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? Use me because I’m here, because I’m the only one stupid enough to let you.”

 

Kenny nods slowly and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, sniffs heavily. This was a bad idea. And before he can turn around and walk away, Naito hits him. Straight across the mouth and so hard that he begins to taste fresh blood, and Kenny’s so shocked for a second he doesn’t realise the rest of Naito’s body following his arm.

 

There’s a tongue in his mouth and hands tugging at his hair, his top, nails scratching at the skin between the waistband of his shorts. 

 

Between the blood and their lips, Naito’s cussing at him in Japanese. _Stupid motherfucking asshole_ , Kenny assumes— mostly because he’s too fucking turned on to wrap his brain around what Naito’s saying, and mostly because it’s so fucking hot he can’t comprehend it.

 

Naito pushes back until Kenny’s knees hit the arm rest of the couch, and then he’s being spun and the next thing he registers is Naito’s hard length pressing into his ass, and the moan he lets go of is sin.

 

Kenny’s cheeks are flushed bright pink already, eyes half-lidded with lust as Naito yanks his shorts down, and Kenny has to brace himself against the leather couch as Naito fumbles his belt off. His entire body is _quivering_ with anticipation, arms already shaking with the effort of holding himself up, and then there’s hands at his ass, teeth biting into the white flesh, and Kenny gasps. He tries to push up onto his palms, but Naito presses the flat of his tongue right against him and his entire body jolts forward.

 

“You need me,” Naito hisses into his back, one hand knotting into Kenny’s curls to tug his body up, the other grabbing at his hip.

 

He knows what’s coming. He knows that that’s it, that’s all the preparation he’s going to get.

 

It doesn’t stop the scream ripping through his throat when Naito thrusts into him.

 

There’s a few moments of blinding white pain before Kenny can finally start to focus on the pleasure that’s pushing through. And then Naito’s pulling out and thrusting back in, picking up speed until Kenny’s writhing under him.

 

“You want to forget?” Naito smirks and wraps his hand tighter in Kenny’s hair, drags his head up so he can stare into his face. “You want to forget, huh? _Forget_ , and focus on this— on me, on how it feels to have me inside of you— how good does it feel, Kenny? _How good do I feel?_ ”

 

Kenny moans loudly, but that’s not an answer; so Naito tugs his hair a bit harder and wraps his free hand around Kenny’s neck, dragging his teeth along Kenny’s earlobe. “ _Answer me_.”

 

“Good, so fucking good—“

 

“ _I can’t hear you_.”

 

He screams again and somehow it’s intelligible enough for Naito, who bites down so hard on his shoulder Kenny’s yelling again.

 

“My name,” Naito growls, “scream my name.”

 

“I—“ Kenny’s so close, so fucking close, but he knows that if he comes right now, Naito’s not going to stop. “Nnnngg— I can’t— _please—_ “

 

Naito’s voice shakes, but his words are like song. “My name, Kenny-kun, scream who you belong to or I won’t touch you again.”

 

Kenny screams his name. Screams that he belongs to Naito, just screams, and Naito pulls him off the couch in such a way he grinds against his prostate, at the same time wrapping his hand around Kenny’s length, and then he’s gone.

 

He doesn’t remember whether he comes screaming or silently, but his legs seize and back arches in ecstasy, and then Naito is supporting his entire body weight in one arm, holding himself with the other as he comes as well, open mouth pressed against Kenny’s neck.

 

When Naito pulls him down onto the couch, sweat covered and fucked out of his mind, he doesn’t think about Kota. All he thinks about is Naito.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i did post this to my tumblr ages ago, but i figured i'd post it on here because i'm writing again and it's great, honestly
> 
> come join me on nahmooste.tumblr.com x


	4. blindside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kota's got a proposition that Kenny wants nothing to do with

“I want to join the Bullet Club.”

 

Kenny blinks at him. There’s a moment of silence where Kenny just stares at Kota, because _what?_ Had Kota _fucking lost his mind? Shit_ , this wasn’t like DDT, this wasn’t Golden Lovers— Kota could get _hurt_. Not just physically, either, but because Kota just wasn’t _programmed_ to be the bad guy. 

 

There’s a million thoughts racing through Kenny’s mind, but he’s still frozen on the spot and Kota’s still staring back at him.

 

“No.”

 

The Japanese wrestler actually flinches. “What? Why?!”

 

He scrambles for words, his eyes darting between Kota’s as his face twists. “You’re not a bad guy. No matter how had you try, you’re too… _good._ There’s a whole different mindset in the Bullet Club— we stand for something else. It’s not like Golden Lovers… those days are…” Kenny trails off, because he can’t say _those days are done_ , the words feel like dead weight on his tongue.

 

It doesn’t matter. Kota knows what he’s thinking. Fire lights behind his eyes. “Those days are what? They’re done?”

 

“No— that’s not what— _shit_ , that’s not what I was gonna say,” Kenny hisses.

 

Kota tilts his head and frowns, but he’s not confused. He’s challenging him. “Then what were you going to say, Kenny?”

 

His heart jumps into his throat and very suddenly, he can’t meet Kota’s fiery gaze. “Those days aren’t _now_. We were younger and naive back then. But I’ve changed, and even if you don’t think so, you’ve changed as well.” Kenny’s eyes flit up to meet his, the side of his mouth pulling up humourlessly. “When Golden Lovers ended… we both changed. The Bullet Club will break you.”

 

There’s a certain shimmer of defiance in Kota’s eyes and then they lose their warmth, and Kenny can almost _see_ those walls going back up. “You’re right, we both changed. And I don’t think I know who you are anymore.”

 

The chair Kota’s on scrapes back across the floor as the Japanese wrestler stands, turning so that he saunters out of the cafe without even looking back. And Kenny just watches him go. Something familiar tugs at his heart and he purses his lips.

 

_Fuck_.

 

_F u c k._

 

His stomach churns uneasily and Kenny doesn’t really want to feel like this anymore. He doesn’t. He needs to get _whatever the fuck this is_ out of his system, because he can’t relive the past.

 

What a fucking dangerous way to live— walking with his back pressed to a wall and the past beckoning to him just past the drop.

 

Kota’s not built to be a Bullet Club soldier. He wasn’t made to beat people up, to lie and cheat. He’s not about the money or the women or the men or the fame. Kota wrestles _for_ the people; he wrestles to put smiles on their faces, to be the reason they’re happy. The Bullet Club was, _is_ , none of that. There’s no place for someone like Kota Ibushi in the Bullet Club.

 

“Kenny…”

 

His blue eyes snap to the new man sitting in front of him. Tama, with his soft smile, gentle eyes, is staring at him worried out of his mind.

 

When he looks down at the can of soft drink he’d been holding in his hand, he’s met with ghostly white knuckles and a crushed can— he hadn’t even realised. He ignores the way his fingers feel numb when he releases the grip and sniffs back his feelings, the emotion dropping right off his face. He doesn’t know how much Tama’s seen, but he knows the Tongan will keep his mouth shut about it.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Kenny doesn’t say anything else and Tama follows him wordlessly, because there’s a lack of animation in Kenny’s English that’s usually there, and there’s a difference in his step that’s easy to pick up. 

 

Kota’s gotten to him and the man hasn’t even been back in the country for a week. _Kenny’s hurting._

 

_Fuck._


	5. the beat of our heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last one for a while, so have some Kenny/Kota fluff that makes my heart swell. prompt from a lovely lady on tumblr

Kota’s a couple of centimetres shorter than Kenny. Not by much, but enough that if Kenny lifts his chin just a little, his lips can press right into the centre of Kota’s forehead. 

 

He doesn’t mean for it to become a thing, but it does.

 

Kenny drops a kiss onto the crown of his head as he passes him on the couch, kisses his shoulder blade when they’re curled into each other before they fall asleep or just after they’ve woken up, kisses Kota when there’s a fire in his veins, hands pressing into his hips and drawing him closer— kissing Kota is Kenny’s favourite thing to do.

 

But this… kissing his forehead… it’s something else entirely. Usually covered in a curious mix of black and brown hair, Kenny doesn’t even _see_ it half the time. Kota’s not self-conscious about it, never has been, but his hair has just _always_ been there. 

 

Occasionally when Kenny does it, Kota’s sleeping. He moans in his sleep and rolls further into the warmth of Kenny’s body and his head is just _right there_ , so he doesn’t even think twice about it.

 

Kota almost ends up whining for it sometimes. And Kenny _knows_ that it calms him and his soul and who would he be, what kind of _person_ would he be if he said _no_ to Kota? When he’s sick of hearing Kenny yell at the TV or when he craves Kenny’s attention, he’ll make it impossible _not_ to.

 

And then Kenny will continue kissing him, trailing his lips down across Kota’s face to his nose, to his cheeks, to his chin, and he’ll hover his lips above Kota’s for a long second before he looks up to find Kota’s dark eyes, watch as they flicker between his mouth and his eyes, and Kenny will slowly push his face forward until their noses are side by side. 

 

“Are you going to kiss me?” Kota will ask, and Kenny won’t deny him. Kenny won’t ever deny him.

 

“I’ve already kissed you,” Kenny replies anyway, because teasing him and watching his eyes flash is an opportunity he’ll never pass up. 

 

He lifts his hands and places them against the warming skin of Kota’s neck, his thumbs pressing under Kota’s jaw so he can slowly tilt his head, pausing again just before their lips touch. 

 

It’s not often that Kota and Kenny are in the same town for too long. Kenny’s with New Japan now and Kota’s still freelancing as many places as he can, whichever ones pay for his services anyway, and the only loyalty that Kota has is to _him_. So any day they get together, any time they can spend with _each other_ is a blessing Kenny would rather not waste.

 

“Do it again,” Kota whispers lowly. His eyes shut slowly and he waits, his body vulnerable to Kenny, his entire being waiting.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Kenny…”

 

All Kota has to do is whisper Kenny’s name and he’s got what he wants. Kenny kisses him soft at first, slow and sensual and making Kota gasp into his mouth as he switches their positions, and Kota is half laying down across the couch, his legs caging Kenny’s waist and keeping him there against him.

 

Kenny grinds and Kota moans and one of Kota’s hands pushes under Kenny’s shirt, the other curling around Kenny’s wrist, and the kiss becomes heavier, harder, Kota’s body pressing back up into Kenny’s. 

 

When Kenny starts kissing Kota, not a single fibre of his being wants to stop. No part of him _ever_ wants to stop touching Kota, kissing Kota. Loving Kota. 

 

He doesn’t _mean_ for the forehead kisses to become a thing.

 

But now… Kenny finds his mouth kissing Kota’s head when Kota’s sad, when he’s stressed, when they haven’t seen each other for a month. When Kota’s coming down from a high that’s had him screaming Kenny’s name. When he’s happy… when he’s not. Because it settles his heart more than anything else ever could.

 

Kota questions him one night. “Why?”

 

“Why what?”

  
  
“Why do you kiss my head?”

  
  
“Because I like to.”

  
  
When Kota doesn’t reply, Kenny buries his nose into Kota’s hair. “Do you like it?”

 

“Yeah.” 

  
  
And that’s all the validation Kenny needs— the forehead kisses are _definitely_ a thing.


End file.
